


don't you know, little fool (how it yells in my ear)

by Mossy_Birch (Mossy_Bench)



Category: Stellar Firma (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Divergence, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, soulmate more like soulHATE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29222340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossy_Bench/pseuds/Mossy_Birch
Summary: In a universe where people tend to have two soulmarks, the name of their soulmate and the name of their greatest enemy, David wonders what it'd be like if clones had soulmarks too—but alas, they don’t.Meanwhile, Trexel is under the impression that he is his own soulmate, because he’s Trexel.Needless to say, they're both wrong.
Relationships: David 7/Trexel Geistman
Comments: 12
Kudos: 23
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	don't you know, little fool (how it yells in my ear)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [syrupwit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrupwit/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's Day syrupwit! When you mentioned David/Trexel + soulmate AU, I could not get the idea out of my head.
> 
> Title is from I've Got You Under My Skin. I couldn't resist.

"I'm going to be wearing this until I die, aren't I," David said with a quivering voice, pinching the cloth of his onesie. It almost stopped clinging to his skin once he did that, but not entirely. Panicked jitters began crawling up and down his body and he shuddered.

The room was pitch-black, because work hours were over and clones didn't "need" light. David sat back down in his chair, wanting desperately to take his mind off of the existential dread of a clonely existence.

Though he was still rather terrified of her, he said, “I.M.O.G.E.N.? It's David, David 7. Uh, I was wondering something. What was thing that Hartro was wearing on her ankle?"

Hartro had been the first person other than Trexel that David had ever met, and in between all the shouting and feet-related terror, David had been comparing the two. There were a lot of differences—Hartro was tall, while Trexel was not; Hartro wore sleek shoes that clicked crisply when she walked, while Trexel that day wore a pair of matted slippers with mysterious stains; and finally, Hartro's eyes were only somewhat bloodshot. Most of these differences, David could reconcile on his own. But he was puzzled by the rectangular band around Hartro's ankle, a dull chrome with no clear way to unclasp it. He’d gotten a good look at it while she forced Trexel to taste her foot.

From the corners of the ceiling, I.M.O.G.E.N.'s lights blinked softly, a cool blue, quite unlike the flashing red whenever she had a security alert. "It covers both her soulmate’s name and her enemy's name, as it is Stellar Firma policy to not have them be visible to others."

"Oh." David brought his feet up on the chair and inspected his own ankles. In the faint light from the ceiling, he saw nothing but the fabric of his onesie. "And uh, what are these names, exactly?”

"Loading Stellar Firma’s Official Soulmark Education. Initiating infodump.” Soft muzak began to play as I.M.O.G.E.N. spoke at a much quicker pace.

“Many Stellar Firma citizen-employees have two names on some part of their body. One name is that of their soulmate, the other of their greatest enemy."

David frowned, still confused. “And people are just born with them?”

“They become legible by early adolescence,” I.M.O.G.E.N. continued, still speaking a little too fast. “All citizen-employees are instructed to hide their names so as to prevent distractions in a professional setting.

“Those who prove to be outstanding at their jobs may be granted a chance to either meet their soulmate, or challenge their enemy in a physical battle, at the end of which the loser forfeits their employee benefits, and usually their life, at the discretion of the Board.”

"I see. Do...do clones have soulmates?" David asked tentatively. “Or enemies?”

As he'd half-expected, the lights turned red, there was an error noise, and I.M.O.G.E.N. intoned, "Access denied. You do not have the necessary clearance for that information."

“Er, sorry, never mind.” David tried not to feel too deflated. He scrambled for an alternative route of questioning. “Does every _non-clone_ get two names?”

I.M.O.G.E.N. immediately returned to her previous state. “Approximately 15% of the known galactic population has no soulmarks of any kind,” she said brightly. “Humans usually have two names, though some have none.”

Despite himself, David was becoming charmed by the idea. It was an omnipresent force, which was intimidating, but it was also completely separate from the Board, even if Stellar Firma did have regulations meant to control its social impacts. He tried to weigh the likelihood of him having a soulmate. Clones were human...adjacent, weren’t they?

“In rare cases,” I.M.O.G.E.N. continued, “a person’s enemy is also their soulmate, so they only have one name. In such situations, the Board offers complimentary assassination of the soulmate/enemy to prevent any moral confusion, provided they are the person’s inferior in standing.”

"I see. Thank you for the information.” David said. He wanted to ask more, but it would be smart to pace himself. Especially since the topic didn’t seem meant for clones. Being too curious about soulmarks was a likely way to draw scrutiny and attention from above.

And David had to admit, it wasn’t pure curiosity that motivated him. There was a certain desperation that spurred him to ask more about soulmates, as though if he asked enough questions, he’d unearth something hopeful. He had begun talking with I.M.O.G.E.N. for a distraction. Now, though, it was veering eerily close to more crushing dread, to which all roads seemed to lead.

“My pleasure,” I.M.O.G.E.N. said, as David roiled internally.

He tried to get as comfortable as he could in his chair, and shut his eyes. He could still see the lights through his eyelids but he was getting good at ignoring them. He heaved a great sigh. "Good night, I.M.O.G.E.N."

"Good night, David 7." There might have been a note of pity in her pleasantly neutral voice. Then again, it might have been glee, or it might even have been nothing at all. David really couldn’t tell with her.

* * *

The day David met Harry, it was under less than ideal circumstances. This was unfortunate, because any other day David would have been thrilled to meet another person that was not Trexel. However, Trexel was so filled with paranoia that David was up to something that he ensured that David had little time to do anything but defend himself from his suspicious eye.

“I know you’re plotting against me!” Trexel had wailed. “You’ve always had it in for me, David, don’t think you can hide it.”

Besides, it was obvious that Harry didn't want to be there, or talk to either of them. David couldn't really blame him for that.

At one point, though, David's query ("So if you were gonna have a moon, what would you have on it?") created an unexpected distraction. As Harry dreamily imagined a living room with enough space to watch holovids, and Trexel fumed at the smallness of his vision, David noticed that Harry had a shiny band not dissimilar to Hartro's, but around his wrist.

 _Huh._ David's gaze turned to the other man in the room to confirm that Trexel, meanwhile, didn't wear a band around any part of his body. Well, though he'd not really thought about it before, it made sense. According to I.M.O.G.E.N., not everyone had soulmarks. And if anyone didn't deserve a soulmate, it was Trexel.

“You are such a _fool_ ,” Trexel raved at the man who was ostensibly his friend.

David winced. As for a greatest enemy—David had to assume that Trexel simply had so many enemies, the universe couldn’t choose. At the moment, Harry was the object of his ire, but so was David, and so was Hartro, and on and on.

David was soon broken out of his musings by Trexel's escalating annoyance towards poor Harry. And then, when Trexel refused to submit the brief...well, David had much bigger fish to fry. So to speak.

* * *

Once David had gotten his fill of beating Trexel over the head with a sea bass, the two of them just stood in the Justice Room, breathing heavily.

Trexel suddenly lay down, falling on his back with a thud, his limbs spread-eagle. "Do you know,” he said, out of breath, “I've actually been hit with a fish before—voluntarily!—but this is my first time by a clone. You're...“ He wheezed. “You’re quite a bit stronger than I imagined."

"Anger is a powerful motivator," David said coldly. After a beat, he, too, lay on the floor, head hitting the cold surface as his heart pounded away in his chest. It was a glad reminder that he was still alive, but also that there was a future before him that continued to be uncertain. He stretched his arms, which ached from the physical exertion.

He glanced over at Trexel, who had a trickle of fish juice running down the side of his face. Still worth it.

He kept staring as Trexel grimaced and half-heartedly tried to wipe the fish off of him. The look of pain oddly suited him.

David shook his head. "There's something I still don't understand," he said. "I didn't think it was a good idea to ask earlier, but now that we seem to be in the clear—Board willing—I have to ask. Why did you do all of this?"

Trexel stopped rubbing his face, but didn't speak.

Since David’s first day alive, Trexel had ignored him, at best, and was actively distrustful and antagonistic the rest of the time. It was different from the casual dismissiveness of Hartro, who saw David as a simple clone. It felt a lot more personal. Maybe that was just how Trexel operated. But that still didn’t answer the question.

David pressed on. “Why did you make your 'sacrifice' to save me? You’ve had, and let go of, lots of previous Davids. Six, in fact. You didn't have a problem recycling _them_. And you’ve threatened me with the same fate before.”

David held his breath, afraid that Trexel would jump up and say, _You're right! Into the recycling with you!_ But he just sneezed and then wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"What is there to say?" Trexel waved his hand grandly. "We're a team, David. Didn't you hear all that I said earlier about how I love you? Well, love is strong. That I like you? Quite a bit?"

"Yes, but—of course I didn't _believe_ it. Nobody did." David felt his fear turning into frustration again. He was so used to going between the two emotions that he hardly got whiplash from it anymore. "Just give me a straight answer, Trexel. For once."

There was a silence that seemed to stretch on forever as Trexel thought.

"No."

David couldn't believe his ears. "No? You're not going to answer me?"

Trexel harrumphed. "I don't feel like it. Also, I don’t even know why I bothered at all, if this is how you’re behaving.” He sat up, crossed his arms, and turned his back to David. “If-if clones had soulmarks, I bet _you’d_ be my greatest enemy!”

David, seething, rose and picked up the battered, pulpy remains of the fish.

* * *

The Skaters' Intergalactic Consortium & Bureau of Radical Ollies, or SICBRO, had challenged Stellar Firma to pitch them the coolest skate-planet ever. That should have been pretty straightforward, but things had gotten off track as per usual.

"I despise skaters," Trexel said. "Everyone who does it is stupid. I fell off immediately the one time I tried, which tells you all you need to know about the sport. I remember _Bathin_ dabbled in skateboarding in school. He looked so foolish trying to balance his muscley body on a flimsy board with neon flames on it."

“D'you suppose Bathin has a soulmate?” David blurted. It was something he'd been wondering for a while now, and as much as he was loath to ask Trexel's opinion on anything, he was the only one who'd actually met the man. David sighed longingly, imagining for the thousandth time being swept up into Bathin’s big beautiful arms. But, he remembered with a pang, Trexel had said clones didn’t have them. Ah, well. It was nice to dream.

I.M.O.G.E.N. offered her two credits. “Bathin. Yum.”

“Ha!" Trexel said, too loud. "He seems just like the arrogant sort who has themself as a soulmate.”

“First of all, Bathin would _never_ ,” David said. “Second of all, is that even possible? I.M.O.G.E.N.?”

I.M.O.G.E.N. glowed, and answered, “It is not.”

Trexel flushed, turning redder than usual. “I know you told me that months ago, I.M.O.G.E.N., but really. Haven’t there been some new scientific discoveries or something since then? There’s not even a teensy weensy chance of it happening?”

I.M.O.G.E.N. sounded vaguely annoyed. “No.”

“Drat,” Trexel said, “Well, that’s another thing my parents were wrong about.” He was staring off vaguely with too-wide eyes, looking dangerously close to a breakdown.

David gulped and looked down at the client information sheet, which (unfortunately) had absolutely nothing to do with Bathin. He braced himself for a stream of self-pity. “Come on, Trexel, we have to meet them soon.”

Trexel jumped. “Ah! David, you-you’re here?”

“Yes. Let’s get this done, shall we?” At Trexel’s still dazed expression: “The brief for SICBRO, remember?”

Trexel nodded, his face cycling through emotions so quickly David couldn’t read it. “Right! Of course I remembered, David, don’t be silly.” He coughed. “Oh, alright, don’t give me that look. I was...I was completely distracted, I can admit that.”

He was getting a _little_ better at being a sensible person. David felt almost impressed.

Trexel's finger wagged in David’s face. “But you would be too if you had my problems!"

David bit back a cruel response and instead spent the next several minutes half-listening to Trexel's suggestions, only replying with "Yep"s and "Uh-huh"s. Sometimes this was the easiest option. As insufferable as Trexel was when he was convinced of his own brilliance, it was hardest when he was sad. Trexel wanted praise and agreement? That was simple enough to give. But when he wanted comfort, David didn't know how to offer it, or even if he should.

* * *

"I think we can safely say, after the first day of trying, that it is not our destiny to run a café for the rest of our lives. It isn't the Trexel Geistman way! I’ve looked at our business plans, David, I’ve looked at them, and they just don’t seem right. It’s not meant to be.”

David set his tray of un-iced slurry cupcakes on the cooling rack. There had been quite a bit more demand for them than he'd expected. "Really, ‘our’? You didn't even show up to your shift today. You didn't even come while we were open to see how it was going. Anyhow, I've decided it’s going to be called David's Place. Not David and Trexel's Place."

"Well, you have to admit that it rolls off the tongue quite nicely." Trexel took one of the cupcakes and then immediately dropped it on the floor. "Ooh, gosh, that's hot! But anyway, some things are just fate, you see. And you can't fight fate, can you?"

"Uh-huh." David picked up the floor-cupcake and contemplated tossing it out. It wasn't fit for customers anymore. He glanced at Trexel leaning against the sink as he jabbered on, not even looking in David's direction. David tore off a chunk of the steaming floor-cupcake and blew on it to cool its temperature. He spat on it for good measure, then offered it to Trexel. "Here, this one's not as hot."

"Why, thank you, how magnam-an-in-in-ious of you," Trexel said, stumbling over the word before he tossed the cupcake piece straight down his gullet, in a chilling display of his lack of gag reflex.

It did remind David that he hadn’t eaten in several hours. Running a business, it turned out, was a lot of work. He popped a piece of the floor-cupcake into his mouth rather self-consciously. Whatever germs were on the floor wouldn’t kill him. Probably. Besides, slurry was purported to be antibacterial.

"As I was saying, David, when you try to fight fate, bad things happen, very bad things! When I was a young, stupid teenager, I tried to cross out my soulmate's name and write 'Percy' instead—and don't even get me started on my enemy's name—and what did that get me? Nothing, absolutely nothing." Trexel thrust his hand out towards David, apparently asking for another cupcake piece. "And I mean that quite literally, my parents had me live in the backyard for a little while, with only the clothes on my bum. I became quite the scavenger! By the way, dirt tastes terrible, David, don't try it."

David blinked. He thought he'd become adept at wading through all the garbage that flew out of Trexel's mouth, but he still needed a moment to process what he'd just said. "Hold on, you of all people have both a greatest enemy and a soulmate?"

Trexel blanched. His hand dropped limply by his side. "Did I say that? Well, so what, most everyone does. Hartro, Standards, even clones sometimes. What? Shut up."

David was thunderstruck. _Clones have soulmates,_ he thought. All he could manage to stammer, though, was, "I didn't say anything."

"Well, you just did." Trexel was trying not to meet David's eyes, but he was doing a poor job at it—he kept glancing over to see if David was still staring at him (which he was), and then quickly looking away. "Give me the rest of the cupcake to-go, I'm leaving."

David did so wordlessly. He watched Trexel put the cupcake between his teeth ("Ow! 's still 'ot!") before crawling back into the vents.

He swallowed, feeling faintly sick. "I.M.O.G.E.N., didn’t Trexel say before that clones don’t have soulmarks?”

She chirped, “Yes, he did! That Trexel Geistman, always telling the truth!”

That meant there was one thing left to do.

Taking a deep breath, David put his hands on his hips. If clones could have soulmates and greatest enemies, then it was time, once and for all, to find out if he had them too. He'd fantasized for ages that his soulmate was Bathin, as most people did, but that was all it was. A fantasy. He was going to take his life into his own hands, and do what he'd never done before: try to remove his onesie.

He would have to start from his feet and incrementally work up from there. That seemed a lot more approachable than starting with the chest. What could he use for this task? The onesie was made of something more durable than the fabric used in non-clone clothing, and it was not easy to manipulate. David's eyes fell on one utensil, a peeler, and he gulped, starting to have second thoughts. What if his skin, most of which had always been covered, reacted poorly to air? What if he exploded? Or immediately dried out? But he couldn't back down now. Resolutely, David filled the large kitchen sink with water then hauled himself up so he could submerge his legs if necessary.

After a couple hours of careful work, with the invaluable aid of several kitchen implements, including the peeler, he had part of the answer. It was in plain black script, which suited its unsurprising contents, above his left knee. (So that’s what his knee looked like. Bony.) _Trexel Geistman,_ it read. That was hardly a shock, no one else could be his greatest enemy. Now to find his soulmate's name.

“They’re usually right next to each other, or in parallel,” I.M.O.G.E.N. supplied.

“Thanks.” David’s skin suddenly flushed hot. “Er, you’re not watching me while I'm doing this, are you, I.M.O.G.E.N.? ” He sighed. “Of course you are, you’re watching everything. Ugh.”

“Watch it, buster.”

Shaking his head, he searched his right knee. Then searched around his left one. He checked his right knee again, his movements more frantic. Sweat began to drip from his temples. "I.M.O.G.E.N.?" he said, voice turning shrill. "Where - is - the other - name?!"

I.M.O.G.E.N. said, "Oh, _now_ you want me here.”

David swallowed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Could you please just tell me, are soulmarks always reciprocated? Like, if someone’s my enemy or s-soulmate, I’m also theirs?”

I.M.O.G.E.N. hummed. “One-sided soulmarks are extremely, extremely rare in humans.”

David stared down at his knee.

 _You can't fight fate,_ Trexel had said.

David didn't like to think that Trexel was right about anything, but it was hard to deny it when the evidence was staring him right in the face.

* * *

David filled orders, served baked goods, brewed hot slurry, and met Angry Jim for the first (and, he hoped, last) time. He had more customers than ever before, and even some repeats. All the while, he waited for Trexel to return to the café, with a slow-creeping dread.

It took a couple days before Trexel showed his face again. By then, it had been long enough that David’s fingers were no longer stinging from sewing his onesie back up (he was getting a bit better with a needle and thread, though he was still on the clumsy side). Trexel dropped from the vents while David was mopping the floor. "Ouch! Good morning, David."

It was the evening, but David didn't really care, if he was being honest. He was relieved, nervous, and angry all at once. The sight of Trexel made his stomach do backflips. "Good morning."

Trexel stood up, dusting off his clothes. "Listen, I've been thinking."

"Nothing good can come from that," I.M.O.G.E.N. said.

"Cheap shot, but fair, I left that one wide open," Trexel said. "David, do you know how many businesses last for more than one cycle? Me neither, but I think I heard it wasn't many. Now, you can either save face by closing up shop and leaving while you still can, or you can go bankrupt and watch everything you own get seized and sold."

"You're still on about that?" David crossed his arms. He couldn’t help getting pulled into the argument, even though he’d gone into this intending not to get distracted. "Well, I choose bankruptcy! I want to go bankrupt! It sounds fun!”

Trexel laughed too long. "David, you don't know what you're saying."

"I do,” David insisted. “I would rather go bankrupt than leave behind David's Place!"

Trexel’s eyes were becoming wilder. "But-but you can't! We've got to go!"

"Why do _we_ have to do anything?" David snapped.

"B-because. Because..." Trexel trailed off.

David let out a big sigh. His shoulders drooped. "I know. I know everything, Trexel."

Trexel looked guilty. "You do? Oh, drat, I knew I shouldn't have snuck out a whole tray of cupcakes yesterday.”

David’s jaw dropped. “What? You took an entire tray? When?” He had chalked up the missing tray to his nervous mental state making him misplace it. Or, he had thought, maybe it was one of the several unfortunate casualties of Angry Jim. David mentally apologized to Angry Jim for assuming he was the culprit.

Trexel froze. "Ummm, what was it that you wanted to discuss, then?"

"Right, we'll come back to that later." David fiddled with the freshly cut flap in the cloth covering his leg, which he'd made for this exact purpose. "I meant, I know about _this_!"

Trexel squinted. "You have a very nice if slimy knee, David, but typically dramatic reveals are meant to reveal somethi—oh ho. Ohh." He inhaled sharply. "Is it, am I-"

"It's the only name I have," David said. He buttoned up his knee-flap and waited for Trexel to say something more. But he just kept opening and closing his mouth, at a true loss for words. David wished he were more able to enjoy such a rare occurrence.

As patiently as he could, David said, "Did you have _my_ name this entire time?"

"You could say that," Trexel said. "You could."

David gritted his teeth. "And you never thought to tell me?"

"Well, if we're really laying it all out there, the Geistmans, like most of Stellar Firma, don't like to think hard about the whole soulmates thing. Your real soulmate is the Board, after all."

"Hail the Board," said I.M.O.G.E.N. She sounded unusually sarcastic.

"So at first, I honestly didn't think it was all that important to share. Was it on my mind almost every waking moment of my life? Absolutely. Did I want anyone to find out that my soulmate was a _clone?_ Absolutely not."

"Gee, thanks."

Trexel tapped his chin. “Also, I wasn’t sure for a while whether you were my enemy or soulmate. Having two names is confusing, I kept going back and forth, trying to figure out which was which. It made my head hurt and it also made me hate you for a while. Of course, you got all the luck, and only have one. And it’s me!”

“Yes,” David said through clenched teeth. “I’m ever so lucky.”

“But I figured it all out eventually, with my deductive reasoning. I'm pretty good at that, you know.”

David hesitated. "So, you mean to tell me that no one else knows?”

“Other than my parents who are long dead, who told me my soulmarks were so shameful I should never share them with anyone? No.”

“How is that even possible?” David said.

"Well, some Board members may know I have them. But I’d be surprised if they knew the names themselves. I was a bit of a late bloomer, the last one in my class to have them appear. Most people think I just don't have any soulmarks. And besides, they’re not in the most obvious spot, is the thing." Trexel saw David's expression. "Not like that! You have a dirty, dirty mind, David. It's in a perfectly normal place."

"Then show me," David said. "I'm still not entirely sure that this isn't all an elaborate prank."

"That’s awfully personal,” Trexel said, suddenly meek. “Can't I just give you my word?"

"No, I need to see it with my own eyes."

Trexel sighed. "Well, if you insist. You've become very forward, David." He undid his cape, letting it fall to the floor, then began pulling his shirt off.

David yelped. "What are you doing! Oh Board, your chest hair, I'd forgotten."

"Calm down, David, calm down!" David peeked between his fingers to see Trexel patting his chest. "My soulmarks are right here, one on each pectoral. It's rather hard to see, but if I move the hair around a bit you might be able to make out 'David 7' over on the left."

"Okay, never mind, put your shirt back on. Please."

Trexel complied.

“But hold on, what about your greatest enemy?” David said. "So it isn't me?" He felt weirdly snubbed.

“It seems not," Trexel said. "Anyway, you had your chance to look.”

“Oh, come on. You have so many enemies, I’ve got to know who it could possibly be that rises above all the rest.”

Trexel looked extremely reluctant. “Oh, fine. Besides your name, the other one I have is...is...” his voice became smaller and smaller. “My own.”

“ _WHAT._ ”

“I.M.O.G.E.N., I don’t suppose there’s been any new evidence that one’s soulmate can be themself?” Trexel said hopefully.

“Searching for scientific updates. No updates found," I.M.O.G.E.N. said, with hardly a pause between the two sentences. "In all documented cases of people with their own names as soulmarks, every single one turned out to very clearly be their own worst enemies. Make of that what you will."

"So let me get this straight," David said.

"Yes?"

"You have the names 'Trexel Geistman' and 'David 7' on you. You weren’t sure which was which, but the obvious clone name put you and I suppose your parents off.”

“Exactly! It’s terribly embarrassing, you can't imagine.”

David cleared his throat. “And so you believed, for at least a portion of your adult life, that your soulmate was yourself, or at least that it was a distinct possibility.”

"Yes!"

"...that explains a lot, actually." David was sweating. It was hitting him all over again, the irreversibility of the situation. This was his life now. He tugged at the strings of his apron and stared down at his knee resentfully.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that. Honey," Trexel said very slowly as he tested the word out.

David shuddered. "Do _not_ say that." A new question suddenly occurred to him, too morbid for comfort, but he couldn't help asking it anyway. "So when you were working with Davids one through six, were you aware that I was coming next?"

"Yes," Trexel said. His hand kept coming up and touching his chest like he was making sure it was still there. "And since I assumed you were going to be my greatest enemy, I tried to make the others last as long as I could. But that was really hard. And I started to lose track at some point. When you finally came around, I thought, well, maybe the problem would take care of itself. Clones don't last long." He got a pensive, almost wistful look on his face. "But you were different. I think I realized that after our first Review Day."

David recalled the paralyzing fear of those first weeks of being alive, how unhelpful and downright malicious Trexel had been, and said, as coolly as he could, "Very romantic." He raised his voice. "Now leave."

Trexel's gaze snapped to refocus on David's face. "What? But we're _bonding_. It's a whole new world, David, and you want me to go? I know I'm still your greatest enemy, but you're not mine. And isn't that what really matters?"

"You can only come back if you bring back my tray," David said, guessing that that would delay things for a good while.

Trexel cringed. "Ah. I might have misplaced that. I know it's in the vents somewhere..."

"Goodbye, Trexel," David said, and turned his back. He heard some sputtering, some sniffling, and then the unmistakable sound of Trexel clattering back up into the vents.

Upon hearing the clang of the vents closing, David whirled around, confirming that he was alone in his kitchen. Trexel had really left.

Had he been too harsh? Immediately David shook his head. No, what was he thinking? Trexel was still apparently his greatest enemy. He had to be held at arm's length as long as he was awful, which, all evidence indicated, he would be forever. Besides, there were still dishes to clean.

* * *

"Hullo David!" said Pocks. They were squat, beaming, and had a big scar on their neck. They'd come by yesterday for the first time.

"Hi Pocks, it's great to see you again," David said, leaning over the counter. "How are the birds?" He was mindful that there were a couple of people in line, but he still wanted to take the time to have conversations. So far it had helped him gain some loyal customers, and thus more money, which was always nice. Pocks had been a generous tipper last time.

"Very cute," Pocks said. “They’re starting to get along, finally! They’re so adorable when they sleep side by side in their little nest.” Pocks rubbed at their neck absentmindedly. “I was really worried at first that they would never get to that point. Mr. Squeakington was so territorial towards Shmerr, poor thing." They shook their head and smiled. "But they made it work, miraculously, and it's all good now! I'll bring pictures by tomorrow, how's that."

"I'd love to see them," David said honestly. "And would you like the hot slurry with two sugars you had last time?"

"You remembered! That sounds great, except, maybe make that three, I have a long day ahead of me and need every bit of energy I can get," Pocks said. "Thanks, David. This is the best underground café I've ever been to. I'll be sure to come back!"

David grinned at them. David's Place was really going to be a success, he thought to himself as he happily went to fulfill Pocks' order. He wondered if Trexel would ever be able to see that.

* * *

Pocks had shared the bird pictures, and as promised, they were extremely cute. David was looking at them and cooing to himself when he heard a loud sneeze echo from the ceiling.

He jumped up. "Trexel?" he called. Silence. "I know you're up there!"

He heard Trexel's sheepish voice. "I sneeze when I'm nervous,” he muttered. "Okay, now catch!"

"What? Oof." David just barely caught the big metal tray that dropped down from the ceiling. Trexel followed soon afterward. "You found it?"

Trexel clasped his hands modestly behind his back. "It wasn't that hard," he said. "It's not like I spent the last few days desperately tracking it down. I just came across it during my very leisurely travels and thought, oh, might as well so that David doesn't fret about it forever."

David lifted the tray up to inspect it. It looked like it had been through quite a lot, with numerous dents and what looked like acid burn marks. He looked back up. A chunk of Trexel's hair was missing and singed. David quickly looked back down at the tray. It was probably unusable, but he still kept clutching it. "I'll be frank, I didn't expect you to actually bring it back."

Trexel looked down at his feet and mumbled something unintelligible.

"What?" David said.

Trexel mumbled again. "Mmsssery."

"I can't understand that, Trexel."

"I'm sorry!" Trexel burst. "I'm sorry, okay? I just thought, well, you're my soulmate, and that means we're meant to be together, and since I don't want to stay at this café, that must mean the both of us are meant to go elsewhere. But I realize now that might not have been entirely completely one-hundred-percent logical. And while I was in the vents I kept hearing people talking about how good David's Place was."

This time David was the speechless one. To his amazement, he saw that Trexel's eyes were welling up with tears.

"And I know the tray isn't in a very good state anymore, and I know I ruined everything, and-and-and-" Trexel hiccuped.

“I don't care about the stupid tray," David interrupted, and set it onto the counter. "Look, as hard as it is to say, it's difficult for me to imagine life without you around, too. For better or for worse."

Trexel said in a small voice, "Really?"

“Really. So, how about we just try it out," David said. "You can be the dish plongeur. Or, if you don't like that, we can figure out something else."

Trexel blinked. The alarming rate at which tears were streaming out of his eyes was slowing. "Well, that does sound...quite nice." He spread his arms dramatically. "But I’m a free spirit, David. Won’t it bother you some days if I don’t come back in time from my sojourns in the vents in time for dinner? Won’t you fret?” He sounded like he was enjoying himself now. There was something scary about his ability to bounce back.

“Don’t forget you’re my enemy too,” David warned, but Trexel was too busy doing a gleeful little dance to listen. David wondered if he'd made a mistake. He was _mostly_ sure he hadn't.

* * *

_Several weeks later..._

The café had been doing so well that David felt secure in spending a bit of money on his hobbies. He had some shiny new exercise equipment (including weights that Trexel had tried lifting once before screaming; he complained about a pulled muscle for the rest of the day). His sewing and embroidery skills were flourishing, too. He had even added a couple colorful, only slightly crooked musical notes on Trexel's cape upon his request.

And now his largest project thus far was finally done. David snipped the green thread and tidied up the loose end. He couldn't wait to show Pocks.

He lifted up his apron. "I've finished it!" he called to Trexel, who was 'sampling' the pastries for tomorrow.

Trexel looked up. His face was covered in crumbs. "Let me see," he demanded, barreling over. "Which one's me? Am I the one on the left with the lumpy wings?"

"For the last time, it's not a metaphor for us." David pointed. "Besides, you'd be this one."

"But that's the one with the big dumb eyes. I don't have big dumb eyes!"

"It's called artistic license."

Trexel looked disgruntled, but the mood didn't last for long. "Hey, since I'm here, can I see my name again?" he asked slyly, waggling his eyebrows.

David blushed. "Why do you have to make it sound like that? It's just my knee."

"It's exciting! Besides, I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"I think I'm good," David said hurriedly. He set aside the apron and unbuttoned the knee flap. "Here— _what?_ "

Both of them blinked and gawked. In addition to Trexel's name stretched across his skin, there was now something new just below it, spelled out in dark, undeniable letters.

 _The Board,_ it said.

“What does it mean?” Trexel said. “I didn’t know soulmarks could change like this. No fair.”

“I guess it’s a clone thing, we’re special,” David said flippantly, though there was a buzzing in his ears. If he didn't have a target on his back before, he did now.

He suddenly had an awful realization. In a voice high-pitched with panic, he said, "I.M.O.G.E.N., you didn't see that, did you?"

There was a horrible silence, then: "See what?" she said.

For once, David understood her tone right away.


End file.
